


Snowforts and Hobbit-holes

by Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw



Series: Lost Tales of the Coats and Customs 'verse [2]
Category: Coats and Customs 'verse - Fandom, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 07:03:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1217002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw/pseuds/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A spring snowstorm in Rivendell can't stop Frodo and friends from having a wonderful time, each in their own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowforts and Hobbit-holes

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [In The Way They Should Go - A Coats & Customs Interlude](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033952) by [imaginary_golux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_golux/pseuds/imaginary_golux). 



> This story takes place in the Coats and Customs AU, written by my beta & Best Beloved, Imaginary_Golux. It is brilliant. You should read it. You probably don't need to read it to understand what's going on in this story, but you'll be playing catch-up.

The spring that Bilbo takes his young charges to Rivendell, there is a great storm. Not of rain or wind, but of snow. “I must apologize for my lack of proper hospitality,” Elrond jests. “Not even a king of elves can order the skies to do as he pleases, and such late snows are not unheard of.” But Rivendell has halls filled with books and paintings and maps and all sorts of curiosities, and there is plenty to do for a day and a night while the snow blankets the city and the forest until it is practically up to Frodo's waist.

Once it stops, of course, the young ones are out to play. Elladan and Elrohir skip lightly over the drifts, even in their boots, and pelt dwarf, hobbit, and dwobbit indiscriminately with snowballs before shrieking off into the woods. “We shall certainly be ready when they return,” Thrain vows, and it is not the mirth of a child at play nor the anger of one stepping into the great rivalry of dwarf and elf which glints in his eye, but the light of the master builder setting to work.

Frodo and Sam are quickly set to work rolling great orbs of snow, and it is good, thick, heavy stuff, perfect for sculpting. They have built snow-hobbits ere now, and this is no different, they reckon, mounding the snow up to fill the gaps as older, stronger Thrain and Bissem finish rolling the balls until they are as tall as Sam. Laney with her carpenter's eye has been sent with an ax, a spade, and a sled to get slabs of ice from the creek to make their walls impenetrable. Frodo thinks about this as he pats the last of the snow into place, and taps Thrain on the shoulder with a mittened hand. 

“Eh, nadadith?”

“How are we to get inside, now that we've finished it and not left a gap in the walls?”

Thrain beams, and as they slide the ice sheets into place (and even Sam must admit that they have constructed quite an impressive fortress), he explains. “You see, we haven't finished it! This is just phase one!” He and Bissem begin speaking very excitedly about tunnels. By the time he reaches the phrase “secondary ammunition depot,” Frodo's eyes have begun to glaze despite his best efforts at politeness. When Thrain begins talking about tertiary escape routes, Frodo and Sam have begun making their own tactical retreat, and by the time Bissem concludes with a mighty flourish about the network of corridors linking them to various points of strategic and tactical value, the two hobbits are fortifying themselves with mugs of mulled cider and debating which hill will make for the best sledding. When they venture back out, they see that Thrain, Bissem, and Laney have managed to tunnel inside their fort (the other opening is carefully concealed beneath one of the finer azalea bushes—not even Elladan and Elrohir will dare their father's wrath to enter that way), and they wave cheerily, dragging their sleds behind them. Their three friends, rather redder in the face, wave back before ducking back down to dig. 

Frodo and Sam are about ready to move onto another hill when Bissem's head pops out, rather unexpectedly, from a snowbank. “Excellent choice,” he says. “This is one of the highest hills in Rivendell.” 

Sam nods. “That's what Frodo said, but I reckon the next one down is a bit steeper. Want to come? We can share sleds.”

“No thanks,” Bissem says. “Want to help? We've nicked plenty of tools from the sheds.”

“Some other time, perhaps,” Frodo says diplomatically. 

Laney joins them after a while, and when they have had enough sledding, she takes one of the sleds and tries to figure out how to build a better one. “The joining is very good—you'd expect that of elven work. But it lacks maneuverability...” She trails off, contemplating the mysteries of woodworking. 

Sam and Frodo exchange shrugs and return to the kitchens. There they find that Thrain has confiscated all of the boiling water—something about using it to create a slick escape chute—so there is no chance of tea, but at least there is a hot lunch to be had. They have just finished their second plates when Elladan and Elrohir pop in for a bit of bread and cheese, so the two hobbits have a honey-cake apiece, just to be companionable.

“Care to go for a hike?” Elladan offers, and Sam and Frodo gladly accept. They have been shut in quite enough lately, and as it happens the two brothers are excellent guides, pointing out songbirds and icy patches alike, covering much of the forest. 

As they return, Thrain and Bissem exact their revenge, pelting the two elves with a seemingly limitless barrage of snow. Frodo and Sam duck inside and are pleased to discover that Elrond's cooks have regained control over their pots, and so there is chowder to be had, and they run a bowl over to Laney, who is in a workshop talking very enthusiastically about lathes. Bissem and Thrain come in whooping, celebrating their victory. “Why,” Thrain laughs, “I think the two of you would be happiest if you'd spent the whole time in the kitchens.” All four of them laugh, and the two dwarves sit down for a late lunch. “If you like, we could fetch Laney if she wants fetching, and show you around what we've dug,” he offers. “It's quite warm out of the wind.”

“I'd like that,” Frodo says.


End file.
